


Behind Our Eyes

by KristaRabbit, LadyKalynne



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Boys In Love, Break Up, Dorian Pavus Has Issues, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Is Gay, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Heartbreak, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romance, Sexy Times, Smut, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, True Love, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristaRabbit/pseuds/KristaRabbit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKalynne/pseuds/LadyKalynne
Summary: Two years have passed since Dorian walked out of the Inquisitor's life and never returned. Now, a summit to decide the fate of the Inquisition has brought them face to face once more. Will things be the same? Can the Inquisitor ever forgive him, or will this meeting serve as their final goodbye?





	1. After All This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where do you turn when all you’re running from  
> Is still beneath your skin?  
> How do you learn to live the life you had  
> Before you let him in?"  
> \--Marit Larsen

Soran blinked against the unyielding sunlight as it glinted harshly off the shimmering flagstones of Val Royeaux's main road and the gleaming armor of the guards alongside it. The tight-lipped nobles on the balconies looked down on his party with whispered comments to their companions. Soran offered small nods of acknowledgement in either direction as they made their way towards the Exalted Council chambers.

He glanced over at Josephine, who smiled and waggled her fingers proudly from her mount's back; in her element as always when scrutinized by the world. She caught Soran's eye and laughed at his tight smile, which was a permanent fixture whenever he was around nobles.

"Inquisitor, it is all about looking genuine! The eyes of the world on upon us once again. Even though it has been two years since the defeat of Corypheus; the people have not forgotten. We are here to determine the future of the Inquisition. Whatever that may be. Now, look optimistic!"

She smiled again, and returned her attention to the upturned noses around them.

Soran sighed a little before gingerly smoothing out his smile and raising an arm in greeting. His thoughts strayed to Josephine's words. Two years. It had already been that long since the Inquisition had destroyed the darkspawn magister lord who attempted to enter the Black City and throw the world into chaos.

He was taken back through the events which had brought them here. He remembered the day his clan leader told him he was to attend the Conclave. His dismay had been clearly evident. A Dalish elf, to attend the Conclave of men? Yet, his clan leader had raised them to be peaceful and wise in all things. So, he had gone without complaint.

Then discovering Corepheus’ sacrifice or Divine Justinia; the Elven orb; the explosion; the Fade...

He recalled Haven, and meeting his current companions. His friends.

His gaze slowly moved to Cullen, sitting proud and erect on his mighty steed; ever the solemn Commander of the Inquisition. He smiled fondly at his general. Cullen glanced over and surreptitiously rolled his eyes, causing Soran to laugh quietly behind a fist. Cullen enjoyed the attention and pomp even less than Soran did.

The genuine smile remained on his lips as he realized how much he had gained, even as the familiar sadness came with all he’d lost. He thought of the men who had bled and died for this silly parade to be possible. He thought of Hawke, who had sacrificed himself in the Fade so he could get home. He thought of Solas. Ah, Solas. Where was he now? Why had he suddenly disappeared after the defeat of Corypheus?

The thought still haunted him. Soran clearly recalled the other elf's grief upon discovering the broken Elven orb Corepheus drew power from. He remembered this every day; along with the pain of losing his friendship. Solas had been a steady, wise, and calm presence through the chaos of trying to restore order to Thedas. They had become close through long hours of evening study, theory, and research.

Solas had been determined to know as much as possible about the tools and methods Corepheus had at his disposal. Desperate even. Soran had his doubts and blurry ideas about the elf's disappearance. His mouth hardened as those doubts tugged at his heart. Solas was not all he appeared to be; that much he was sure of.

Then, Dorian flickered into his mind as a flame in the darkness. A warmth spilled through him in a wave, accompanied by bitterness. Soran swallowed hard and his hands tightened on the reins. Dorian. He had tried so hard to put this behind him. This hurt and disappointment. But it stayed with him, tormenting him even at nights as he tried in vain to sleep. Dorian.

"—Inquisitor? Soran."

A firm voice interrupted his somber train of thought. Soran blinked, and pulled himself into his surroundings again. They had arrived at the council gates. He tilted his head and took in the vast, intimidating structure before him as he would a hulking demon, looking to spill his blood.

Cullen was watching Soran carefully, reading his troubled expression. The Commander no doubt thought it was about the Exalted Council and the decision they were about to make, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Soran smiled at him anyway, giving his silent thanks. Cullen gave a brief nod and dismounted, causing the Inquisitor to take a steadying breath and do the same. He alighted gently to the floor; his elven reflexes and agility always being jealously admired by others.

Josephine re-affirmed this as she sighed at him and clambered out of her mount's saddle. She huffed and straightened her impeccable golden outfit before leading them into the grand chambers. Josephine excused herself to get everything in order, and Cullen blandly announced that he needed to organize their men.

Soran saw them off then turned idly to wander the opulent halls before he was trapped in the council meeting for hours. He meandered into a particularly grand chamber, clenching his marked hand as it pulsed painfully. It had been getting worse, honestly. The magic often flared of its own accord.

Just then, mother Giselle entered the room and paused in front of him with a gentle greeting. "Inquisitor. It has been a long while, how are you?"

Soran smiled at the former Revered Mother. "Mother Giselle. It is good to see you. I am well, thank you. It has been a busy two years. I see you have settled into your role here."

Mother Giselle gave a soft nod. "Divine Victoria has asked me to greet you in her stead, as she converses with the new Ambassador of Tevinter."

Soran raised his brow. "Tevinter has sent an Ambassador? I didn't know they had appointed one."

Mother Giselle smiled knowingly. "I hope to greet him myself; to apologize for what I said of him two years ago. He is a good man, and he did not deserve my bad treatment."

Soran's blood chilled a bit. Mother Giselle continued, "Dorian Pavus is here on behalf of the Tevinter Imperium. And I am sure your other friends would like to see you as well. You should seek them out, Inquisitor. I doubt you will have the time after the council begins."

Soran swallowed hard and nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. "Y-yes, thank you Mother Giselle. Take care."

She only smiled again before taking her leave. He stood there silently, alone. He struggled to control his thumping heart as his emotions roiled within him. Dorian...an ambassador? Here? Now?

After all this time; he would see Dorian again. Would he look the same? Would he be the same Dorian that left two years ago? Would he still feel—no. He would not let this shake him. He was here to decide the future of the Inquisition; of his people. He had to remain in control and be calm, yet decisive. It didn't matter that Dorian was here. He would be no one but the Inquisitor today. He had to be.

Soran straightened, fixed the belt of his formal attire, squared his shoulders, and took a steadying breath before striding out into the bright courtyard to greet his inner circle members; who had returned to support him. He found them seated in a few of the couches beneath the flowering canopies; all of them raising cups to him as they spotted his approach.

"Your Inquisitorialness! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" Varric laughed in his usual way and clapped him on the back.

Soran gave a laugh himself. "It’s good to see you Varric. How's Bianca?" he asked with a lopsided grin.

Varric merely winked. "Gorgeous as ever, as you well know."

Soran smirked.

"Inquisitor, glad to see you're still sane after all this nonsense," a deep, gravelly voice grumbled nearby.

Soran turned to greet Blackwall; now Tom Rainier. “Tom, I'm glad you could make it. How goes things with the Wardens?" Soran asked.

Tom shrugged. "As well as could be, your Worship. They took me in proper, as they would anyone who comes to the Wardens. To start over." He smiled briefly and added, "If you're interested after all...this... we could use a Rogue in our ranks."

Soran huffed a laugh, but nodded his thanks. "I'm flattered, Tom. I haven't yet come to a final decision, but it's nice to know I have a back-up plan." He smiled.

Tom offered him another shrug and knowing nod. Sera and Ironbull looked up from their chat to shout a hearty greeting, Cassandra offered a quick nod as she leaned against a pillar, and Vivienne gave a lovely bow.

"Inquisitor, darling. You look a bit pale. Or perhaps it’s just the red fabric?" She gestured imperiously at Soran's formal attire with a not-so-satisfied look.

Soran laughed, and took her hand for a brief kiss. "Vivienne, it’s a pleasure to see you, looking exquisite, as always."

She simply crooned, "Of course darling, of course."

Soran felt nostalgia settle into his bones as he stood amongst his friends; his family. They had all been through so much together. He had helped each of them personally in some way or another. But, none came close to the one whose presence he yearned for now. The one who he had truly given himself to, in every way. The one absence his heart had grown cold to. So, amidst the familiar banter and laughter, Soran wore an empty smile to hide the gaping hole inside of him. One Soran believed would never quite be filled again.

“Well if it isn’t the dread Inquisitor himself,” a voice sounded then, causing everyone within earshot to turn their eyes towards its source in awkward silence. Dorian himself stood propped causally against a wall, his signature smug expression turned Soran’s way. He had appeared out of nowhere as if by magic, perhaps manifested by the Inquisitor's own thoughts. It made sense, because Dorian was quite magical after all. “How long as it been, two years? Ten? Who counts anymore?”

His tone was lighthearted, as it almost always was, but only masked the true feelings the mage underwent upon seeing the man he once called his. Dorian had taken lovers in his life, but none had captured his heart the way Soran did. The plucky little elf actually made him believe he could have their happy ever after. For a time. Life always had a way of slapping you in the face whenever you made the mistake of thinking you could live in a dream.

Dorian’s fantasy bubble was burst when his father was murdered, leaving behind a legacy of shit for his son to take over. He promised Soran he would return once he found Halward’s killer and took care of his affairs, but then responsibilities began piling on top of each other until he was so weighed down, he couldn’t have left had he wanted to. He was a magister, an ambassador, even the co-leader of a little group of rebel magisters with minds much like his own; the Lucerni. They were doing a lot in the way of cleaning up the corruption the Imperium was rife with, but they still had so much work to do. There was no way he could leave that all behind.

Not even for Soran.

Dorian smiled slightly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, before pushing off the wall and slowly making his way closer towards the Inquisitor. He hadn’t been stabbed yet, so he took that as a sign that it was okay to approach. Damn it all, if Soran didn’t look just as good as he had the last day he’d seen him; with his pretty doe eyes, slender body, and silky hair. It made Dorian feel weak in the legs, but he didn’t let that show as he closed the distance between them. Leaving the elf had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, and he knew he hurt him deeply, but he hoped Soran would at least understand why he had to. And why he had to stay in Tevinter.

All Dorian had ever wanted was to make a difference, to change the world the way the famed Inquisitor had. Maybe he wasn’t sealing giant holes in the sky or leading an entire army, but he was making progress on something near and dear to his heart. Tevinter was his home, his life, and it meant everything to him to see it heal from the damage corrupt people had done to it. Their greed and power-hungry ways had brought a flourishing empire to its knees. It would never be as prosperous as it once had been, but it could be built up to something greater than it currently was. If there was any chance that Dorian could be the one to help make that change, then every sacrifice was worth it.

He turned his eyes down to the elf now right in front of him, who looked as if he had seen a ghost, and felt a clenching in his heart. Some sacrifices were much harder to make, however.

“How are you, Soran?”

For long moment, Soran couldn't reply. The words stuck in his dry throat as he took in the gloriously striking man before him. Dorian. Impeccably dressed in traditional Tevinter formalwear, his hair perfectly coiffed, and that little grin that Soran adored. He was so beautiful, Soran's breath hitched painfully in his chest. Dorian's dark eyes studied him carefully; calculating the response he may receive.

The others glanced between him and Dorian awkwardly before Varric brusquely cleared his throat, "Ahem, let's go stuff our faces before the council starts people! Before all the good grub's gone?" He gave Soran's shoulder a clap before they all moved away quietly.

Soran straightened then, swallowed a lump down, and faced Dorian. "I believe its Ambassador Pavus now? Congratulations. I'm sure you'll do well in your new role."

Today, he was the Inquisitor. It was the only way he could do...this. His mind was reeling, his heart was throbbing; but the endless etiquette lessons from Josephine somehow got the words out. They felt stiff and tight from his lips, as though he had forgotten how to speak. But he had to say something!

Soran reluctantly shifted his gaze to Dorian's face. He caught the hurt look, which Dorian quickly covered before idly straightening the cuff of his outfit. Soran winced inwardly at his own coolness, but stubbornly kept his face neutral and grasped his hands behind his back; steeling his spine.

“Indeed,” the mage answered simply, a bit put off by Soran’s blatant attempt to ignore their past. Not that he could blame him. Dorian knew full well he would not receive a warm welcome after so much time had passed. He had been so busy trying to make things right in his homeland, he hadn’t even kept his promise of keeping in contact with the communication crystal he had given to Soran. Seeing as he had completely failed their relationship, he didn’t deserve anything more than what he had just been given. If he were being honest though, he had rather hoped his elf would run into his arms and greet him the way he always had in the past. With tongue, preferably.

Just some of those pesky dreams trying to linger around.

He gave a small sigh then forced a smile on his perfect, mustached mouth. If Soran wanted to play it this way, then he would have no choice but to comply. For now at least. A political summit wasn’t exactly the time or place to talk about more personal things. That didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t going to push his luck a little.

“You look good, Amatus.”

He knew it wasn't the right thing to say, to use the pet name he had given the Inquisitor back when everything was good and perfect. He regretted it the second it came out of his mouth, but not too much. He had always enjoyed the way Soran’s face flushed when he used the term and was curious to see if it would still incite the same reaction. After all, time and distance didn’t mean Dorian had stopped caring for the man. He didn’t think that was even possible. Not for him at least. He couldn’t help but wonder if Soran had completely removed him from his system, or if feeling still remained.

Hearing the familiar name caused Soran to pause and grow flustered; which he fought to hide. Simultaneously, a flicker of anger followed. Did Dorian truly believe everything would just return to the way it was? That they could simply pick up where they left off? Did he have any idea how much hurt and disappointment he'd caused? The flicker fanned into flame, and Soran's eyebrows knitted together in a dark frown. His lips became a hard line as he responded coldly, "You are too familiar, ambassador. You forget the two long years that have passed between then and now."

He immediately knew it was the anger talking, but he didn't care. A part of him resented Dorian for having such an effect on him. Soran had always been known for his even temper and calm spirit, but Dorian made him feel too much! Soran swallowed audibly, unclenched a fist and continued, "We are on different paths now, Dorian. You made that abundantly clear. And as I said long ago: this was never a game for me. So, if it's playing you want, it won't happen. Now, if you'll excuse me; I have to prepare for the council."

With that, Soran nodded curtly and turned away. His hands were sweating beneath his gloves, yet his face felt icy. Yet, it was his heart which felt as though it would shatter his ribs as he turned from the man he'd never stopped loving. Despite the lack of communication, the loneliness and pangs of rejection; Soran felt his traitorous heart sing with barely restrained hope. Hope? He needed to get away. To think; to breathe! But, a quick glance at Dorian's expression turned his legs into lead. He took a step away...another one...one more.

Dorian stared after him as he walked way, a mixture of disappointment, pain, and elation filling his chest. Yes, elation. Not the usual emotion one felt after being verbally slapped in the face, but Dorian knew Soran better than most. Or at least he liked to think so. Beneath his harsh words lay something else; something that made Dorian’s heart flutter in his chest. He saw it tear its way to the surface for a split second, and noted the familiar warmth in the elf’s eyes that always made his knees falter. But then it was gone just as quickly as it had come.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give Dorian all the incentive he needed to try and talk to Soran later; after this whole exalted council business. What he hoped to accomplish in doing so, he didn’t know, but he had a lot of explaining to do; that much was evident. He didn’t know if Soran would listen, or even stick around long enough after the council had ended, but he would try anyway. He liked to play things off as if they didn’t get to him, but watching Soran storm off after such cold words hurt more than he would ever admit. He had to try to make it right.

He wanted to reach out to him; to pull him back and apologize profusely, but his ex-lover was already too far gone. Maybe in more ways than one. Dorian knew he didn’t deserve the Inquisitor when everything was said and done, but he was a selfish man. And selfish men indulged their own needs more often than they ought to. Right now, the only need he had was for the dark haired, gorgeous elf that drove him insane. What that longing entailed, he didn’t know himself. Maybe he just wanted forgiveness for ruining the best thing that had ever happened to him. Perhaps he was just grasping at strings, hoping there was still enough fire in their hearts to bring them back together. Even for a moment.

One more day, to last him a lifetime.

It was a stupid hope really, but Dorian was not one to back down from things just because they were unwise. In fact, he had spent most of his life rushing headfirst into difficult situations; whether it be matters of politics, the heart, or fighting against restrictive social standards. It didn’t make sense for him to change his tune now. If he were being honest, Soran was the only reason he had agreed to come to this meeting in the first place. What the Inquisition did or did not do was no longer his concern. Soran would always do what was best for the people in his care; Dorian wasn’t worried about that. He only cared about stealing away a few private moments with the man he loved, even to this day.

With that in mind, he sighed softly and followed after Soran like a lost puppy, preparing himself mentally for the mind numbing meeting about to take place.

Soran felt more than heard Dorian following silently behind him as he made his way into the council chamber. Dorian didn’t say a word as he'd turned away; but his expression was enough to know the words had been effective.

As the nobles, council members, and his inner circle took their places around the room; Soran tried his best to regain his composure. How was he supposed to focus like this? He noticed immediately that Dorian's presence filled the room more than anything. The sensation caused Soran to fidget and feel unsettled.

Josephine appeared beside him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. Her look told him she understood, but that he needed to remember what they were here for as well. Soran nodded grimly, and took a seat at their table in the center of the huge room. Although the situation, strangers, and their environment should have intimidated him; Soran could barely take in his surroundings. He was sharply aware of Dorian's presence, just next to the council's platform. He had to force himself to look straight ahead.

The council members took their seats upon the dais, looking somber. Divine Victoria offered Soran a small, warm smile; which Soran returned gratefully. He hadn't had a chance to speak with her before, as her new role as Divine kept her thoroughly occupied. He was happy for her. She had rediscovered her purpose and her faith with the Chantry.

The familiar face among the cool, stern ones made Soran feel slightly more at ease. Yet in the corner of his vision, he couldn't help but keep a constant track of Dorian's every move. What did he think of all this? In all honesty, Soran had grown increasingly desperate for Dorian's advice about this meeting in the last few weeks. He had felt Dorian's absence more than ever then.

They had always teamed up to get through difficult situations before. In fact, without Dorian, Soran was sure he could have thrown the Inquisition into chaos on more than one occasion. Although Soran considered himself a capable leader, Dorian possessed invaluable knowledge and wisdom with regards to Tevinter, the Venatori, and conflict between those they were trying to protect. He just understood why things are the way they are.

No doubt this was due to his difficult upbringing, his ambitious family, and Tevinter culture. Soran suddenly hoped Dorian had managed to smooth things over with his family; especially after his father's death. Though, his new role as Ambassador was proof of his success. A little warmth spread through Soran at the thought. He had always felt protective over Dorian, ever since that surprise encounter with Dorian's father at Redcliffe over two years ago.

The father who attempted to "fix" Dorian's nature, through blood magic. The memory still burned in Soran's mind. But his anger began to ebb, as the memories of himself and Dorian began creeping back into his heart. Vaguely, he became aware that Josephine was answering the council's first question. Seven hells, he needed to focus! He took a deep breath, and tuned in to the arguing voices around him.

"The Inquisition's military force has grown too large! Without the authority of the crown or the Chantry, surely you can understand you are now seen as a threat. Of course, we will always remember what the Inquisition has done for Thedas...but the threat of the Breach has passed, and you have made many questionable decisions in its wake. Not to mention the outright audacity of capturing keeps and maintaining the use of the Grey Warden Treaties! This cannot be allowed!"

Josephine sighed softly, and looked to Soran for a response. He simply met the councilor's gaze, and answered calmly.

"Councilor, of course I can understand your uneasiness. You are correct; the Inquisition's forces have grown. But this is only because it has become a home for many. A new life, a place where they feel they can make a difference. And everything we have done, has been to restore and maintain order. That has been our only goal. Nothing more. Our banners only marked the presence of order, where there once was chaos. The people who joined us did so because they shared our belief that together...we are stronger. Together, there is a future. Who would we be; what would we stand for; if we turned them away?"

Josephine nodded her approval beside him. Divine Victoria smiled behind her laced fingers. The councilor frowned, unsatisfied. He then launched into more accusations and thinly veiled threats which stoked Soran's ire. It didn't seem to matter what Soran had to say. They had made their decision already. Soran glanced at Dorian, instinctively seeking him out. The look he found on Dorian's face made him quickly look away again; heat creeping into his cheeks.

After hours of endless arguing, reasoning and more threats, Divine Victoria held up a hand and silence fell over the chamber. She met Soran's tired eyes, and he read careful submission in them. Though she was head of the Chantry, she was now a servant to the people. The many always triumphed over the few.

She announced steadily, "The nobility is decided, Inquisitor. The military force of the Inquisition cannot remain, without the rule of the crown or the Chantry. A decision must be made about your future. What is your response?"

She gave Soran a stealthy, yet apologetic look. He was silent as he slowly met the eyes of the people around him. Every one of them watched him, waiting to hear the fate of the mighty Inquisition. Soran felt the familiar weight of responsibility settle heavily on his shoulders once again. He suddenly felt so, incredibly tired.

Unable to fight it any longer, Soran allowed his gaze to settle on Dorian. He wondered where his own place would be when all this was finished. As a Dalish elf, should he return to his clan? What was there for him now? Join the Wardens as Tom had suggested? Did he really want to continue fighting? What about all the people who relied on him so much? Soran felt the empty loneliness begin to yawn wide inside him, his place in the world becoming increasingly blurry with every moment that passed.

Soran already knew what his decision would be, it had been discussed many times with his inner circle; but he dreaded what the other members of the Inquisition would think of him. This moment would unravel everything the Inquisition had become. It would all just...disappear, and become text in a dusty tome; to be wedged between the thousands of other memories of Thedas.

Soran must have allowed his raw emotion to show through that simple look between them, because Dorian then gave him exactly all he needed in that moment. It was the simplest gesture; the one which offered gentle approval. It somehow gave Soran the strength he required to follow through. It was time. Time to end it all, and move on. They could fight this, and force the Inquisition's continuation; but that would go against what they had originally stood for. Peace, and order.

The announcement Soran finally made, after several moments of tense silence, felt dreamlike to Dorian. The words scarcely seemed real as they left his favorite elf’s mouth and floated in the chambers like a dark cloud. The Inquisition was to be no more. Everything they had all worked so hard to build would just be…gone. It was a bittersweet moment, one that weighed heavily on the sassy Tevinter mage.

A dozen hushed whispers filled the room then, as each attendee shared their reaction with their constituents, but Dorian could only see Soran. He watched the somber expression of the Inquisitor, saw the exhaustion and weariness in his eyes, and it filled his throat with a thick tightness he couldn’t quite swallow down. Hopelessness occupied his chest in that moment as he realized nothing he could do would save his old lover from his coming fate.

What would happen to Soran? As long as Dorian had known him, he had always been the Inquisitor; a symbol larger than life that inspired thousands upon thousands. Now that would just be an empty title. Would he leave Skyhold? Stay there long after everyone else had gone? Would he even be allowed to? Or would the chantry, or some other group, take it over to use for their own purposes? If so, where would he go?

The idea of Soran not being around frightened Dorian, not that he let it show on his face. Even though he had walked away from Skyhold long ago, it always brought comfort to him knowing Soran was there. In his daydreams, he would see his dark haired beauty standing on the balcony of his private quarters, his sparkling eyes turned to the horizon and his expression thoughtful. It was one of his favorite things the elf would do, as simple as it was.

Some mornings, back when things were perfect, Dorian would lay awake in their bed watching Soran out there contemplating life and responsibility. It filled him with a sense of peace to watch the man he loved in such deep thought, to see his beautiful shoulders rise and fall with small sighs and his fingers trail along the balcony rails as he made decisions no one person should even have to. Nobody was stronger than Soran Lavellan; nobody more inspiring or utterly beautiful.

The idea of never seeing Soran on that balcony again filled the mage with a deep sadness he couldn’t quite explain. In that moment, the continuing discussion faded away and all Dorian could do was stare into the dejected eyes of the man who used to be the center of his universe. He didn’t care about the details of the disbandment of the Inquisition. Josephine probably had a plan mapped out for every minor item of business, anyway. She never would have come to such an important meeting without a strategy for every scenario. Add in the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, the former Seeker, and their lovely new Divine; and they were sure to come up with an arrangement that suited everyone.

Dorian was no longer needed. Not that he was in the first place. He had barely said two sentences during the entire meeting. He didn’t have to; everyone in attendance seemed to mirror the thoughts of Tevinter, that the Inquisition was too powerful for its own britches and needed to be put to rest. It made his job as ambassador all too easy, and now that it was done, all he wanted to do was get to the real reason he had traveled so far.

Soran.

After nodding to those around him and excusing himself quietly, he stood; his eyes never leaving the other man’s. He couldn’t shout his intentions across the room, so he simply nodded to the nearest exit and pleaded with Soran to follow with his eyes. Hopefully his old flame would take the hint and meet him somewhere more private once he got the chance. If not, Dorian would have no other choice but to admit that things truly were dead between them.

It was a harsh reality he was not quite ready to face, but he would have to should Soran never appear. Hopefully though, the former Inquisitor would at least give him a chance to properly speak with him. With nothing else he could do, Dorian cleared his throat and finally moved his eyes away, slipping out of the chambers and down an exquisitely decorated hall to wait.

It was done. Soran was vaguely aware that Josephine had already explained the disbandment procedure, and the guests were beginning to leave the chamber. Soran didn't really see any of it, however. Through the gaps in bodies before him, Soran's gaze was locked onto Dorian as they had a silent, intense conversation; which probably only lasted a fleeting moment.

All too soon, Dorian had shifted his gaze, turned away, and was striding through the back archway and into the sunlight beyond. Soran watched the proud man's cape catch the wind behind him and flutter like the wing of a bird - a bird taking flight. The sight caused Soran to experience a slight panic in his chest. How could he live without his heart? For it had now taken leave of his ribcage, and was out the room.

Frozen, Soran wasn't aware as Josephine grabbed his arm from behind. He jumped.

“I’m so proud of you. It is finished, master Lavellan. Now go!" she whispered urgently, giving him a gentle shove.

The change in title registered, and Soran felt the Inquisition's weight ease off of him. He gave her a small, grateful smile and turned to watch the spot where Dorian had disappeared. Why was he hesitating? What was he afraid of? That Dorian wanted to finalize their goodbye? To tell him how disappointed he was? His heart began to race involuntarily. He could just leave. He could put all of this behind him, and go somewhere far away. But deep in his heart, Soran already knew that wasn't an option.

No, there was no excuse to avoid Dorian. He was being a coward. So Soran swallowed back the clenching dread, squeezed Josephine's hand, and slowly made his way out of the council chamber. The bright sunlight blinded him as he left the shadowed verandah and paused to look for the mage. He looked to his left, down a marbled, gilded hallway and caught sight of him wandering its length; away from any company. Soran took a deep breath, and quietly closed the distance between them.

With every step, he considered what he would say. He still wasn't sure if Dorian actually had feelings for him after all this time. So much had happened since the last time they had been together. Dorian had been incredibly busy in Tevinter it seemed; what if he had met someone else? Someone who was what Dorian needed now? As Inquisitor, Soran had been someone; a leader, a protector, a home for those who had none. He had been a rallying call to keep fighting; keep living. But now?

What was he now? Who was he? Just a Dalish elf from nowhere, whom no one needed any longer. As Dorian got closer, Soran felt his self-confidence slip away with every heartbeat, every breath. What reason could this incredible, powerful, talented, ambitious man have to still want him at all? Soran could offer him nothing but his heart, and even that felt diminished and tired. And it ached now with such intensity, that Soran had to fight to stay upright. His marked hand pulsed with pain, and he clenched his fist so tightly his nails almost broke through the skin of his palm.

Finally, he stopped an arm's length away from Dorian. Whatever the outcome of this conversation; Soran knew he would carry on somehow. He would have to. He promised himself he would forever respect and love this man, no matter how far away he might be. And with nothing more he could do to prepare, he simply murmured, “Dorian."

Hearing his name caused the tension to flow out of his shoulders like a river, a small sigh slipping past his lips as it went. Dorian felt Soran approaching before he heard his light steps across the marble, experiencing the familiar pricks at the back of his neck and perspiration in his palms whenever the other man was close. Their connection went far deeper than could be described. It was almost as if the magic inside of him was acutely tuned to dance and vibrate whenever he was lucky enough to be in the elf’s presence. He thought that may have changed over the years, but here he was falling apart inside just by having Soran next to him.

He slowly turned and cast his eyes downwards to the slighter man, overwhelmed with emotion and struggling to hide it. He could hide his feelings from anyone in the world except the one standing in front of him now. It was frustrating and exhilarating all at once, to have somebody see through all your bullshit. He forced a small smile and took in every fine detail on the elf’s face, noting the signs of fatigue and grief. He knew he had added to the latter, and felt incredibly guilty about it all. How could he have stayed away so long? With Soran staring up at him with those beautiful, troubled eyes, he didn’t know how he managed to stay away two days, let alone two years.

Soran made him want to forget everything; to give up what he had built and run away into the sunset to find the happy ending that kept evading them. What was stopping them now? As of a few minutes ago, there was no Inquisitor, no Inquisition, and no common cause to fight for. Soran was free of the restraints that had kept him from following Dorian to Tevinter long ago. If only this had happened sooner, maybe then they could have been together. Maybe he wouldn’t have fucked everything up by being neglectful and blinded by his work.

The truth was, Dorian had ruined everything and couldn’t take any of it back now. Seeing the pain in his old lover’s eyes made that evidently clear. Still, a part of him never departed when his physical body did. A part of him stayed behind with Soran and left him feeling hollow and alone, even when surrounded by others. Now that he was right in front of him again, he felt whole once more. It was a completely overwhelming sensation that caused his mind to whirl and his senses to heighten.

So much so, that he had taken Soran’s face in his hands and was pressing his lips to his before he could tell himself not to. He wasn’t thinking about the consequences of such an action, or what would come afterwards. He was only acting on feelings that had built up over the years; finally allowing them to release in a rush of emotion. He hated himself the second their mouths touched, but he couldn’t stop himself. If this was the last time he ever saw the man, he had to feel this one more time. He had to experience what happiness was again before returning to the shitstorm that was his life.

Soran blinked. He couldn't quite gather his thoughts fast enough to realize that Dorian was kissing him. Right now. His emotions shuddered to a confused and sudden stop. Dorian's mouth was pressed firmly against his, but it was still. However, before Soran could formulate any sort of reasoning; his body came alive and he grabbed onto Dorian's collar; shoving him into the wall and crushing the other man's body with his own. All he could feel was Dorian's luscious mouth moving against his own, his hands against his skin...and Soran forgot about everything but their deep breathing and pounding chests.

He felt his throat constrict as he wound his arms around Dorian's waist, pulling him as close as possible. He could barely breathe as their lips devoured each other; savoring the glorious taste. It was as though Soran hadn't truly felt in two years. He had been a husk, living in a grey and empty world; desperately lying to himself that he could live that way. What a fool he had been! As Dorian's being enveloped him; as he felt his warmth; breathed in his sun-kissed, musky scent; felt his strong, steady hands on his face...Soran knew he could never go back.

A small, insistent doubt in his mind interrupted though. He needed to understand! Soran struggled to recollect himself, as he took hold of Dorian's wrists. Breathing heavily, he reluctantly pulled his mouth away and met Dorian's dark-lashed eyes a few inches from his own.

"Dorian—," he began haltingly.

Their parting of lips snapped the mage back to reality, but he still hungered deeply for more. How could he not, after a kiss like that? Nothing had changed, he knew that now. Not for either of them. The fire that ignited between them grew wild and hot within seconds, almost as if it had never been snuffed out. It made his heart soar and sink all at once, if that were even possible. It was elating to know the desire between them was still as strong as ever, but sobering to realize it was only a fleeting moment. After this, they would have to return to their lives.

That made him want to continue all the more, to keep their passionate interaction going for as long as possible, but he could hear the hesitancy in Soran’s voice; and that kept him from pursuing their intimacy further. A small chuckle escaped his lips, even though his heart was breaking, and he slowly leaned away to stare back into the other man’s eyes; though he kept a delicate hold on his face.

“Forgive me, I know that isn’t what we came here to do,” he started, his voice cracked and laced with raw emotion that he no longer cared to conceal. “I wanted to talk with you properly, Soran, if you will permit me.”

_I’d rather just keep kissing you, if that’s okay._

Dorian smiled then slightly, knowing it would be fairly difficult to discuss anything now; with their hearts pounding and their emotions frayed. Perhaps he should have saved the mouth dueling for afterwards, but who could resist such a man?

“We always found it easier to speak with our bodies, than to find actual words, didn’t we?”

Soran couldn't help it, but a corner of his mouth tugged upward. He squeezed Dorian's hands briefly. "Indeed. Though I have dearly missed your fancy, large words...Magister."

Soran’s old wit was slowly creeping back up to the surface, and it felt so very good. Saying that one simple sentence made him feel more like himself. He did not fail to notice the emotion with which Dorian watched him, though. There was a sadness there, which Soran was careful to record. What was he not telling him? There was something else, he was sure. But Soran wanted to draw this encounter out as much as possible, now that he knew how Dorian still felt about him.

So he waited patiently; taking in every familiar detail of Dorian's handsome face. When the silence continued, Soran simply raised his brows slightly in question.

Dorian searched for the right thing to say for several seconds more, the little speech he’d practiced on the way to the council now completely out the window. He hadn’t expected their secret kiss in the corridors, and it had thrown his mind into chaos. In all honesty, the only contact he figured he would have with the Inquisitor was a literal slap to the face. And he’d deserve it, wouldn’t he? But true to Soran’s nature, he kept Dorian on his toes; always doing the unexpected and surprising him. It was something he loved about the handsome elf right from the start.

“I owe you so many fancy words, Soran,” he started finally, a gentle expression on his face. “But perhaps I will try the humble route this time and speak plainly. Shocking, I know.”

All the eloquently spoken speeches in the world could never portray adequately how sorry Dorian was, so he wouldn’t even try. Soran didn’t deserve some flowery speech anyway. He deserved the truth, laid out bare and simple. He deserved words straight from the heart, not those meant to enchant or entertain.

“I want you to know why I stayed away. And why I foolishly let this distance grow between us,” he started, his hands sliding away from the former Inquisitor’s face as his voice took on a more serious tone. The lack of contact was painful, but touching him was far too distracting for what he was trying to do.

“I fully meant to come back to you after I found my father’s killer. I meant to write to you every day, to send you gifts and frilly love poems. I even planned several visits, but…” He paused, his gaze turning downwards when he found himself unable to keep eye contact.

“But, life has a way of getting in the way. It took me months to even find a lead in his murder. I was consumed. Then I spent months after, following through on what I’d found. And I did. I found the bastards who organized his death and I made them pay. He may not have been a very good one, but he was still my father. And he deserved more than what he got. I made sure he was avenged.”

His voice trailed off and he took a few breaths, the sting of losing the man who gave him life still fresh in his heart. There was so much of their broken relationship that could have been repaired. They had started working on things, but now they would never get the chance to make it right between them again.

“All of it was for some stupid political power play,” he continued, wanting to get everything out before Soran could say anything.

“It seemed unfair, but then I realized that such treachery happens almost daily in the Imperium. So many have had to feel exactly the way I did; helpless, alone, and lost. My need to cleanse it of the filth became stronger than ever. So much so, that I forgot about everything else. You know all I ever wanted was for my country to do things the right way, to heal from all the corruption. I saw an opportunity to make that happen and I took it. A group of mages have been working with me ever since, to make things better in the Magisterium. And we have been making so much progress, Soran. We have rooted out so many of the corrupt.”

He finally turned his eyes back to his old flame, begging the man to understand with his gaze.

“I never meant for everything else to be pushed to the side, especially not you. Never you. But I can promise you that you were with me every step of the way. You gave me the strength I needed to carry on, to keep fighting no matter how frustrated and infuriated I got with everything. I was following your example, after all.”

He reached up again and gave Soran’s chin a small nudge, a sad smile playing on his lips.

“I think I got so used to having you in my head to lead me onward as always, I forgot that there was a living, breathing you out there somewhere. No excuse, I know.”

His voice lowered then, his eyes filling with that familiar, carnal warmth once more. “And living, breathing you tastes just as good as I remember…for the record.”

Soran smiled a little sadly. Although it still hurt; he could now understand Dorian's actions. He supposed he himself of all people, could relate to the feeling of life running away with him. Even when he led the Inquisition; he and Dorian never had much time to themselves. Dorian had acted with nothing but patience and good humor the whole way through...even though he had plenty personal problems to deal with himself.

Problems that he had placed on hold to help their cause. When Soran would go to him for comfort or guidance, Dorian had graciously embraced him when he could have taken that time to deal with his own worries back in Tevinter. The realization settled heavily onto his chest. How could he have been so selfish? Tears pricked behind Soran's eyes, as he took hold of Dorian's hand.

"I'm sorry. I have been selfish, Dorian. How could I fault you for giving everything to do what is right for your people? For your homeland? How could I, after fighting and making sacrifices like that myself? For the Inquisition?"

He huffed and turned away, ashamed of himself. He placed a weary hand over his face; trying to come up with a way to properly apologize to the man he loved. It was all so clear now, and his ignorance shocked him. The Inquisition had been made up of thousands of people, with all their problems. Had it blinded him so much, that he had forgotten how to empathize with one man's personal struggle?

Keeping his face hidden, Soran attempted to speak again.

"I-I haven't been there for you, Dorian. Again, your grace is evident when you say I have been. You've been in Tevinter, fighting an internal war. Not only with your family, but the entire country! And where was I? Sulking in my corner like a spoiled child!"

His voice had risen, and he spat the last words as though they were poison in his mouth. He slowly turned to face Dorian again; full of self-resentment. He spoke deliberately slowly, to calm himself.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you. Through war, defeat, disappointment and loss...you have truly come into your own. And you have done it alone. I wish I could have been there, Dorian. I wanted nothing more than to be by your side, experiencing everything with you. And I will forever regret that I wasn't. Please, forgive me...? I don't know where my next steps will take me; but your forgiveness will give me the strength to make a start. Please."

He stepped close to Dorian, his heart aching. Though he may never see this magnificent man again, he had to know that he still had his respect. That would be enough. He could go wherever he had to then, knowing that Magister Dorian of House Pavus remembered him fondly. The thought of never seeing Dorian almost caused his knees to buckle. Perhaps the Wardens was an option, then. At least it would keep him busy. At least it would give him some form of purpose.

As Soran desperately attempted to piece together a future without Dorian; he stood silently in place. He waited to hear the words that would either send him on the path of desolation, or one of redemption. He searched Dorian's gaze for any hint of what he may be feeling; the slight pause feeling like an eternity.

Magister Pavus stared down at him in stunned silence; processing what he had just heard and witnessed. He didn’t know how, but somehow Soran had managed to blame himself for Dorian’s sins. Which…honestly wasn’t all that surprising, really. The elf was talented at many things. Unfortunately, that included making himself responsible for every bad thing in the world.

“Soran, no. Don’t do that,” he told him in a soft, scolding tone as he reached down and lifted the other man’s face to his. “You don’t get to take all the glory in this fuckup. Not this time. I'm afraid I get to be the villain in this one, and you can’t take the title from me. I won’t let you.”

A small smile played on his lips, but his gaze told Soran how serious he was. Dorian was the one who had chosen to leave, not the other way around. He was the one who had aligned himself with the Inquisition, with the Inquisitor, only to abandon it all far too soon. If he had kept his promises, maybe he could have found a way to take care of his affairs in Tevinter and make Soran happy as well. He was talented and intelligent, after all. Also beautiful. Musn’t let anyone forget that.

He sighed softly and released Soran’s chin, bringing his arm down to wrap around the man’s slender waist instead. It was a selfish gesture, wanting to have their chests pressed together, but was also meant to comfort as well.

“You aren’t selfish for keeping your responsibilities. The Inquisition was so large and important at that point, you really had no other choice. But I _am_ to blame, for placing my own above the man I claimed to love so dearly. If it wasn’t for me distancing myself from your life completely, maybe we would still be happy and together, instead of…what we are now.”

Soran shook his head with a soft sigh. “I know I can't very well argue this point with you, Dorian. We know who would win." He swallowed hard and turned to watch the people of Val Royeaux as they returned to their various duties and families. Family. Soran felt a twinge of guilt as he considered his clan. Would they expect him to return home, now that his role in the Inquisition was complete? What was he to them? He turned back to look at Dorian, also watching him.

What were they now? Dorian's words sent a chill down his spine. Did that mean Dorian’s feelings had changed? Their kiss had been just as intense and passionate as he remembered; but it also felt desperate and …conclusive. Almost as if it were done to confirm something for the last time.

What we are now…

Did that mean they were finished? Was this a goodbye?

Soran reeled as he attempted to interpret Dorian's words and behavior. He was being kind, and taking all the blame; almost as though-

"You're leaving for good," Soran said gently. The words were quiet as they slipped from him of their own volition.

Of course Dorian was leaving. He was an Ambassador of Tevinter! The head of the Pavus house; as well as the leader of his revolutionary mage group. Of course he was going back to Tevinter for good. Of course he would finish what he started. This was Dorian Pavus, for Andraste's sake. What had Soran expected? For Dorian to simply drop everything for him so they could run away into the sunset? How foolish to allow that small shred of hope to overcome him.

He let a small, harsh "Ha" escape him. He felt truly stupid. Soran kneaded his brow with his fingers to gather himself once again. _Don't think about it anymore. Don't think about it_.

He straightened. "Thank you; I'm glad we could talk like this Dorian. And, thank you for coming to support me one last time. It means so much. I suppose all that's left now is to move forward. That will take you to wherever you need to be in Tevinter; probably where the trouble is thickest, I'm sure."

He smiled ruefully. Forcefully. "And I...I recall Tom promising me a position amongst the esteemed Warden ranks. You have to admit; they won't truly be taken seriously without a rogue elf amongst them." He grinned boldly, hoping like hell that it was convincing enough.

Dorian’s nose turned upwards as if he had smelled something foul, not even trying to hide his utter disdain for what he had just been told. He felt as if he had just been slapped, and not in the fun way. The Wardens? There was no way in Thedas he would allow Soran to make such a stupid mistake. He liked Blackwall, or Tom, well enough, but right now he wanted to set his beard on fire and give him a serious case of the crotch itch.

The very idea of Soran dying alone in a dark cave somewhere, as all Wardens eventually did, was enough to make him physically ill. He would still be so young, so vibrant, with so much yet to give the world. Why throw that all away to be tainted by darkspawn filth and eventually driven mad by it?

No. Dorian would not allow it. Not that he had any say in what the former Inquisitor did anymore, but he would tie the man up and lock him in a closet somewhere before he let him dump his life into a trash heap. Whatever it took.

“Soran, no. The Wardens…they’re so final,” he started, unable to veil the pleading frustration in his voice. And he didn’t want to. If he had to sound like a begging little puppy, then so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time he had begged Soran. Though, those other times had been slightly more erotic. Okay, vastly more erotic.

“Don’t jump right into a bullshit offer because you feel like you have nothing else. You only just became a free man a few minutes ago! You can do anything; _be_ anything. Maybe dying alone in a pile of darkspawn excrement is Tom’s chosen fate, but it doesn’t have to be yours. You have options.”

Soran felt his thinly patched-up bravado crumble, and he threw his hands out. "What options, Dorian?" he asked a little too loudly, the familiar fear of the unknown creeping back in. "Go back to my clan, hunt for buck, and pick herbs? After everything I've seen? Everything I've been through? Everyone else has something to fall back on! And you're going back to revolutionize Tevinter. So what would you have me do, Dorian? What is my purpose now?"

His voice broke on the word 'purpose'. He had never felt more lost. Of course he had his family, but the idea of trying to settle back into that docile lifestyle in the middle of nowhere...it filled him with dread.

Once upon a time the peaceful wilderness, simple lifestyle, and minimal contact with anyone else made Soran happy. Content even. He would forever appreciate and see the value in that life. But Soran also understood that he would never be the elf he once was. That life would never fully satisfy him again. And Dorian...made him feel so alive. If only he could somehow fit into Dorian's plan. He wanted nothing more than to simply experience and understand what he had been working on all this time.

Though they may never again be what they once were, the opportunity to help in any way and just...be a part of his life sounded far better than returning to solitude. Unfortunately, it did not do to dwell on dreams. So Soran took the mage's face in his trembling hands, bringing him close so he could speak into the other man's eyes.

"Tell me," he whispered, "how to do this, Dorian. Tell me how to...move forward from here. Tell me."

Magister Pavus stared back into his gaze, his hands slowly reaching upwards to wrap around Soran’s wrists gently. It had been a long time since he had seen the infallible Inquisitor so rattled; the last time being when they had escaped the Fade. The things they saw and experienced there would unnerve anyone, but Soran had taken it extra hard. It had taken weeks for Dorian to see a small glimpse of the man he knew return; still weeks after that for some sense of normalcy to finally set in. Try as he might, there was nothing he could have done to help him heal; except be a hand to hold or a warm body to seek love and comfort in. It was a struggle Soran had to work through in his own mind. Dorian had felt helpless then, and he felt helpless now.

The man he loved was searching for absolution in his eyes, begging him to relieve his inner torment, but Dorian didn’t know how. If he could create a magic spell to solve all of Soran’s problems, he would do it in a heartbeat. Sadly, life didn’t work that way. There was no easy way out, and the right choice was often unclear.

“Soran, I—I don’t have all the answers for you,” he answered softly, taking the elf’s hands from his face and holding them in his own between their chests. The disappointment in Soran’s gaze upon hearing his words was evident, but he couldn’t tell another what their path should be. Soran had to figure that out for himself.

“But I do know,” he added quickly, not giving his Amatus the chance to slip into another depressing tirade, “that whatever you end up doing, you are going to rattle the stars.”

Dorian knew that to be true with all his heart. He wished Soran could see how completely remarkable he was. The man was a beacon of light in the world, and nothing he did would ever be anything less than earth shattering. It was in that moment, with his words hanging in the air between them, that Dorian felt the love he had for the man swell his chest. Soran was the most beautiful creature he had ever known, and walking away from him today would seem a greater tragedy than the Blight.

“You want to find a new purpose,” he continued, squeezing his hands, “and I can’t tell you what that is. But…maybe you can start your search in Tevinter. With me. A visit; somewhere safe while you figure things out.”

Dorian didn’t know what possessed him to make such an offer, but it was out there now and he didn’t really want to take it back. He didn’t let Soran follow him years ago, he had too much to do as Inquisitor before, but there was nothing stopping him now. If that was even what Soran wanted. Maybe things were too far gone between them; to broken to repair. Maybe he would laugh in his face for offering now what he had denied in the past, but nothing would make the mage happier than having Soran see his home. Maybe he would only stay for a few days then walk out of Dorian’s life forever, but it would be a few days he would cherish as long as he was breathing.

Soran remained quiet for a long moment, simply staring at Dorian; not quite believing his ears. Go to Tevinter...with Dorian. He wasn't promising to take him back, but perhaps this would be enough to help Soran find a new way. Seeing Tevinter for the first time! His panic began to give way to familiar, excited anticipation at discovering a new land. The Inquisition had opened so many doors of discovery for Soran. And he had come to love this feeling.

Yes, this could lead somewhere better for him. Perhaps he could indeed find a new purpose, by seeing and experiencing something new. Finally, Soran stopped his trembling. Having a plan returned some semblance of calm to him, and he removed his hands from Dorian's steadying grip.

"Dorian I - if it wouldn't be too much...trouble, I think that would be wonderful. I would love to see your home. Perhaps you're right; a change in scenery would...inspire me." He smiled gently, gratefully. "Thank you, my friend. You have saved me, yet again."

 

* * *

 

 

Preparations had been made and Soran was ready to start his new adventure. As the morning sun peeked its way over the horizon, he bid his friends a final farewell. Josephine cried, unashamed; while the tougher characters spoke through tight throats, their embraces a little firmer and lasting longer than usual.

There was still the matter of Solas, and whatever he was up to in the unknown shadows; but everyone confirmed that they would continue investigations as best they could, and stay in contact. As leaders and advisors in their own lands, they all still had formidable influence and resources to offer; should another calamity threaten Thedas once again.

Soran hugged them all tightly in return, and thanked them deeply for everything they had offered him and the former Inquisition. He wished them well in their endeavors, promised to remain in their confidence through communication crystals and letters; then finally left to collect his things from his chambers.

Tevinter. Dorian. Soran wondered where this journey would lead him. He was still unsure of Dorian's intentions for them; but couldn't help but feel lighter and more excited as he made his way to the courtyard to say goodbye to the men who had accompanied them to Val Royeaux. Suddenly, Soran's step faltered as he took in the Inquisition officers and guards, all lining the road toward the gates.

His inner circle all grinned at him at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. Soran shook his head ruefully and descended toward them.

"Inquisition! To attention!" Cullen shouted.

They all straightened with a responding shout, holding their fists to their chests in salute. Soran felt his chest swell with pride. He stepped forward, and said loudly, "Inquisition! You have served with the utmost honor and bravery! And I could not be prouder to have led every one of you! You have my eternal respect and gratitude! Go forth now, and inspire others as the soldiers, researchers, and truth-seekers which you have become! Whatever we were before, we are now FREE!"

They drew their swords in one movement, raised them high, and roared in response. Soran felt a tear roll down his cheek, and he in return drew his daggers and crossed them above his head; saluting the people who had given him their all.

They roared ever louder as he made his way down the road, raising a hand to either side of him in farewell. Dorian's small caravan waited just outside the main gates. The horses were being watered, harnesses tightened, and luggage secured. And so, with the former Inquisition and his friends still cheering behind him; Soran began the long journey to Tevinter.

With Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	2. Retrouvaille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lay by me, wrapped in evergreen  
> Catching stars to keep  
> Feel my quiver seize  
> Since we found out that we're invincible  
> We've been living in a dream world  
> Since we decided to be infinite  
> There's no ending and there's no fear  
> I was filled  
> You made my bones still  
> Your eyes well with tears  
> We're alive, my dear  
> Since we found out that we're invincible  
> We've been living in a dream world  
> Since we decided to be infinite  
> There's no ending and there's no fear  
> We've been weak, we've been down  
> Kicked ourselves to the ground  
> Only lost to be found  
> You're my hero now.
> 
> \--Broods, Evergreen.

The hot Tevinter sun beat down on Dorian, his forehead gleaming with a thin sheen of perspiration as he watched Soran peruse the marketplace stalls. Typically he would complain about the heat mussing his hair, but today he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he hardly noticed the ungodly temperature -or much else- with his current company distracting him. Soran was a commanding presence and always had been, even in his current state.

A small, saddened smile played on the mage’s lips then; his mind floating back to the past several weeks and the difficulty they had wrought. He knew the massive change would be hard on the former Inquisitor, but hadn’t been prepared for the depressive state his old love fell into. This was one of the few times Soran had come out of Dorian’s home since their arrival in Tevinter. Until now, he spent a majority of his time locked away in the guest room doing gods only knew what. And with Dorian so busy with his work, he hardly had the opportunity to truly delve into whatever was bothering the man.

He felt guilty about leaving Soran to his own demises while he tried to play hero of the Imperium, but he couldn’t exactly abandon his duties; as much as he wanted to. If it were up to him, he would have taken a month or two to simply be with Soran; to hell with the magisterium. Perhaps they could have traveled. Dorian would have loved to have showed him the beauty of his fair country, but wishes weren’t worth much these days.

He sighed softly and shook his head, making a mental note to find more time for Soran. Today had been wonderful, and they both needed more like it. It was the first time since Soran had become his guest that they’d actually spent the entire day in each other’s company, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Unfortunately, the sun would be setting soon; though Dorian wished he could spell it into sticking around awhile longer so their good time didn’t have to end just yet. It was nice to see Soran enjoying himself again, to watch his striking face light up with wonder as he discovered the beauty of Dorian’s city. Seeing life in his eyes once more was a relief and a gift. Perhaps it meant that whatever plagued the elf so deeply was finally passing. Dorian could only hope.

“Fancy that, do you?” he asked then, nodding his head to the small, intricately carved elven dagger Soran was turning around in his hands. A troupe of Dalish merchants had set up shop in the bustling city square, selling their wares along with dozens of others hoping to make enough coin to feed themselves come morning. Soran was taken with them immediately, perhaps being reminded of home. Whatever the reason, Dorian was grateful for the soft smile on Soran’s face. “It’s yours.”

Soran quickly looked up from the beautiful Dalish dagger, brows raised in surprise. "Dorian, you don't have to do that. I have funds from-," he started, but quickly closed his mouth at the look Dorian gave him.

"I-Thank you." Soran smiled. "It brings back so many memories of when I was growing up in the forest." He twirled the dagger artfully through his slender fingers. As he took in the bustling square, shimmering surfaces, and shouts of the merchants, Soran felt the nostalgia of the eternal forest mingle with the excitement and fast pace of the present. It made him feel fuller. Less hollow.

His memories and experiences were something he could use to fill him up. He endeavored to remember that.

Dorian paid the Dalish merchant and Soran, in a moment of fondness for his people, took the elf's arm and met his eyes. "Dareth shiral, brother. Thank you for reminding me of home."

The other elf smiled a little sadly, but knowingly. He bowed his head. "Dareth shiral, lethallin. The land does not forget those who remember her. Be well."

The man's words sank in deeply, and Soran took a deep breath before nodding his thanks and moving on. He felt better. The first few weeks in Tevinter had been unpredictably difficult for him. He thought he would feel the reassuring embrace of purpose again, but when he discovered he had too much time on his hands and nothing to do with it; the emptiness slid back in like shadows at dusk.

He didn't blame Dorian for leaving him alone most of the time. In fact, Soran had insisted that Dorian not feel obliged to entertain him while he was here. Soran knew how many responsibilities the other man now had. He actually secretly enjoyed watching Dorian in his study during the evenings; silently struggling with the written demands of various diplomats and stubborn nobles.

Lounged in one of the opulent couches, Soran would pretend to be reading, but would secretly watch in quiet delight as Dorian's brows knitted in stormy concentration or rose impossibly at some inked threat or another. One evening, he even had to audibly swallow a laugh at a loud, indignant snort from the magister. It was strange to experience their reversed roles. Dorian was now a powerful leader, striving to achieve order and change, whilst Soran was the bystander.

Soran fought a particularly heavy desire to smile seductively at the man. This powerful, wise, mature, and dominant leader aroused uncomfortable warmth in his core like no other. He risked a glance at Dorian's handsome profile instead and swallowed hard, completely taken by him. Soran's gaze slid appreciatively over the mage’s strong jaw, perfect hair, and high cheekbones, before settling on his eyes. He could have sworn the other man's gaze flicked forward, avoiding his stare. It made him feel warm inside, knowing that Dorian had been watching him too.

As they made their way slowly into the lush gardens on the other side of the square, Soran wanted nothing more than to entwine their fingers together. It would have made their evening stroll that much more perfect. The heady aroma of unknown blooms floated in the evening air, along with Dorian's unmistakable scent. It was like something out of a fairytale; with its hanging vines, beautifully sculpted statues, and flowing fountains.

This area was much more romantic than the bustling markets, and it was almost too much for Soran to handle. Dorian's continued presence heightened his senses, and he could feel his blood warming throughout his body. He couldn’t help but imagine the two of them locked in a heated embrace on one of the benches, as the moon shone down and the crickets serenaded them. His heart skipped a beat in slight panic as his body began reacting to the fantasy, and he cleared his throat roughly. The last thing he wanted was to become too ‘excited’ in public.

"Dorian, I needed this. Today,” he said quickly in an attempt to distract himself. “Thank you for taking the time; the city is magnificent. I think I have somewhat figured out the directions," he laughed nervously, “So if you need to get back...I can continue from here. I wouldn't mind enjoying the evening air for a while longer."

He hoped Dorian wouldn't feel dismissed, but he needed a moment to breathe! He held himself upright; his hands folded tightly behind him in an effort to keep himself together and appear relaxed.

Dorian scoffed, stopped in his tracks, and turned his face to him; a single eyebrow raising and both hands on his hips. “And leave you out here to fend for yourself? I would never.”

His voice was sarcastic and teasing, as it was most times, but there was also truth in his words. Who knew what might happen to Soran if he left him unattended in a strange, and sometimes treacherous city? Qarinus was much more peaceful than Minrathous, but it still harbored many dangers within its stone walls; particularly from its people. Not that the Inquisitor couldn’t take care of himself, mind you, but Dorian still wasn’t willing to risk it. What if a pack of wild rapists swooped down upon him? Or worse, some seedy politicians tried to recruit him for their cause?

No. Definitely no.

He softened his expression and shook his head with a quiet ‘tisk’ sound, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Do you really want to leave me after the fabulous day we’ve had together?” he asked in an attempt to convince the elf to come home with him, his lips turning into a dramatic pout.

In all honestly, Dorian didn’t relish the idea of returning to his father’s estate solo. He was the only one left, aside from the servants, and the large building could get depressingly lonely. Perhaps that was just one more reason why the mage kept himself so busy; so he didn’t have time to think about how incredibly alone he was. Soran didn’t know it, but he made the manor feel like a home again for the first time since Dorian was a young man; before his father sent him off to Minrathous because he was ashamed of him. Call him selfish, but Dorian wanted to experience that feeling as much as possible before Soran decided to move on.

Soran laughed despite himself. He could understand Dorian's caution, of course. Although Qarinus was more peaceful than the capital, it was still Tevinter; which meant a cut-throat power system. It was almost as bad as the “game” in Orlais. Who knew how someone could benefit from taking the former Inquisitor's head?

"Ha! Of course not, Dorian. How could I?"

Soran smirked up at him. Though the mage wore a playful expression, it did not reach his eyes. There was worry there, and something else; something…pleading? He wasn't sure. Soran's smile faltered and he swallowed hard, his lust quickly replaced with concern. If it was important to Dorian that he return home with him, then of course Soran would not deny the man. He glanced around at people ambling past and took a deep breath; resigned in the fact that Dorian would not be letting him out of his sight this evening. "I suppose if I stay, the blood-thirsty ladies may decide to hunt me down in these darkening alleyways -oh!"

“Oh, Andraste forbid,” Dorian replied with a light chuckle, his moment of darkness seemingly dissipating. “We couldn’t allow that now, could we? Just look at them, eyeing you like hungry wolves.”

“Please, they’re staring at _you_ , Magister Pavus.”

Indeed, their movements were being closely, yet casually monitored by man and woman alike. The former Inquisitor grew increasingly aware of it now that Dorian had brought it to light, and he immediately became irritable at their attention on the Ambassador. He knew it was silly of him to feel this way since he no longer had any hold on the magnificent man beside him, but he couldn’t help the sick sensation welling up in his stomach. Although he may desperately want it to be otherwise; Dorian was not his.

The reminder felt like claws being dragged down the walls of his heart. Any one of the admirers starting at them could potentially capture Dorian’s affections under the right conditions. The magister was a beautiful man, and he most likely had many people interested in him. The very idea drove Soran mad. An intense, deep desire to claim Dorian before anyone else could developed into a beast within him; wild, possessive, and chipping at his resolve. Soran tried desperately and silently to control himself as too many eyes slid over Dorian from everywhere, but in the end the beast won.

Before he could stop himself, he stepped close to the man he once called his own and lifted his hand to lay the gentlest of caresses along his jaw. The simple contact caused Soran to release a breath he didn’t know he'd been holding. In that moment, he realized how much he'd been craving this from the second their unexpected kiss ended some weeks ago. His skin was so soft, so beautiful, and Soran wanted nothing more than to continue exploring it as he used to back at Skyhold. The need to touch Dorian almost broke him, but Soran quickly regained his senses and remembered where they were. He agonizingly lowered his arm, breaking contact.

Tevinter would not tolerate this behavior, certainly not in public. Soran felt his throat constrict painfully as he grew conscious of his mistake. How could he be so careless? These people liked nothing more than to gossip and blackmail each other for a little more power or prestige. His moment of weakness could destroy everything Dorian had worked for! Soran gritted his teeth in anger at his own foolishness, but forced a smile and covered up his brief touch by waving an arm in a direction; as though gesturing down a pathway in the gardens. "Lead the way, Magister. I am at your disposal."

Soran gestured grandly with an arm thrown wide, his face hurting from the faux grin he wore. “Let’s just get back to the estate, yes?" he added in a lowered, morose tone. He didn’t want to be so exposed out in the open anymore.

Damn his possessiveness. Damn his desire. Damn all of these vultures who would use it to get to Dorian. Damn them all. Soran wanted to shout it to the darkening sky above! But, he refused to be manipulated by his desire, and he would not allow his weakness to ruin this night. Soran swore it to himself, and any gods who may have been listening.

Dorian noted the other man’s distress, but chose not to address it for the time being. He was too busy reeling from Soran’s intimate, too-brief touch. His fingers had barely kissed his skin, but they burned a hole into it. His face was still tingling from the gesture, among other parts of him. He cleared his throat and forced a light hearted chuckle, despite the heaviness in his chest. “Trying to rush me home now, are we? Why Inquisitor, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were coming onto me.”

Soran’s face flushed and he looked away quickly, a series of different emotions welling up inside of him. If only Dorian knew how much he wanted to be with him; how it tore him up inside every day wanting the mage and knowing he couldn’t have him. Unfortunately, too much time had passed and now Soran feared it was too late to save whatever they once shared. They hadn’t even spoken about their current situation since finding their way back into each other’s lives. Were they friends? Something more? Nothing at all? Soran just didn’t know, and it was enough to drive him completely insane.

Normally, Dorian’s quips and teases would make him laugh and forget whatever sour mood he was in, but not this time. This time, his jest hit too close to home. He was already angry at the world for tearing them apart, without Dorian adding to his inner agony. Even their brief encounter moments ago was too much for his fragile heart to handle. It seemed Dorian was not nearly as affected by it as the elf, and that somehow made it worse. All Soran wanted to do now was return to the estate, slink into his quarters, and lick his wounds in private.

“Dorian, stop. Please, let’s just go,” he murmured, his eyes still turned away. He didn’t think he could look at his former lover now, not here in such a romantic setting. Not when he couldn’t follow through with his feelings surging so strongly for the man.

Dorian responded with a soft sigh and a nod of the head. “As you wish, Inquisitor. Come, House Pavus isn’t far.”

He wasn’t sure why his companion suddenly appeared upset, but he knew better than to push. Especially so out in the open. The inside of Soran’s mind was a plethora of complexities; and while Dorian found it beautiful most times, it also made the man extremely hard to read. Surely his flirtatious remark wasn’t enough to cause so much angst? It wasn’t the first one he had made, and it wouldn’t be the last. Flirtation was a language Dorian was well versed in; just one of his many talents.

So what then?

Had he done something to upset Soran? Moments ago, it seemed as if they had shared a real moment, but it passed so quickly Dorian barely had time to respond. Not that he could have in such an open setting; it was inappropriate to trounce around in the public gardens in the nude after all.

Was that why Soran had suddenly withdrawn back into a closed off, gloomy state? Because Dorian didn’t react properly to his show of intimacy? What was even _considered_ proper? Doran had no idea how they were supposed to behave around one another now, especially with their complicated past, but he thought they’d made real progress after their perfect day together. Perhaps he had misjudged. Perhaps any and all suggestive comments were completely unwelcome now. Dorian didn’t know where Soran stood, and the elf was definitely not volunteering the information.

He pondered this and many things as they winded their way through the stone walkways in complete silence, back towards the manor they now shared together.

The walk felt like an eternity.

Though the lack of discussion was awkward, Soran was grateful for it. His mood had taken a turn after Dorian's flirtatious jibe, but he couldn’t help it. His limbs ached from the effort it took to remain a respectable distance from the man; from not seeking out his dark eyes, or...touching him. Soran felt as though he would burst from his own skin of he didn't get some space between them.

So, when they arrived and entered the grand entrance hall, which split off into many separate rooms, he cleared his throat and prepared for a hasty escape. "Dorian, I-I must apologize for my rather somber mood all of a sudden. Perhaps it’s the Tevinter heat getting to my head. I think I should just lie down. Again, thank you for today. I truly enjoyed seeing the city."

He finally met Dorian's silent gaze. The man was quiet before him, looking a little confused as he handed his cloak to the house keeper. The rich hue of his bare, toned arms glowed in the soft candle light, and it made Soran’s throat dry. Of course he looked absolutely irresistible. Why _wouldn’t_ the gods want to torture him further? He swallowed hard and forced his eyes to Dorian's face again. Before the mage could respond, he quickly concluded, "Well, I'm sure you have a little work to do before bed. I'll bid you good night, Dorian."

Soran turned and swiftly made his way to his quarters down the hall. Dorian's gaze burned a hole into his back the entire way, but he didn’t falter. Once in his room, he leaned against the cool wood of the closed door for a moment; taking a deep, calming breath. _Space. Blessed space._ Even as he thought the words, though, Soran knew what he really craved was no space at all. Not between them. Not even the tiny space caused by clothing. No, not even that.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly to push the thoughts away, then moved across the room while removing his coat and boots. It did him no good to get lost in such fantasies. They only made reality that much harder to bear. Once he was seated at the end of the luxurious bed in front of a flickering fireplace, Soran unsheathed the Dalish dagger from his belt; studying the carvings in the soft, orange glow.

_It’s yours_.

Soran recalled the warm smile Dorian had offered along with the gift, and his eyes slowly fluttered closed again. Only this time it wasn't to banish a thought, but to cherish it. As much as it pained him to be so close to Dorian, it was also something he wouldn’t give up for the world. If all he could have were small moments to make it through each day, he was okay with that. Soran didn't know how long he remained there; silent and thoughtful before the flames, but he somehow managed to grow calm once more.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the estate, Dorian was anything but. Soran had practically run from him, confirming his suspicions that something was wrong. He rather hoped spending an entire day in each other’s company would bring them closer, but it apparently had the opposite effect. A disappointment, really, considering he had tried so hard to make the man happy. Were balcony-top brunches, matinees at the theater, horse-drawn carriage rides along the shimmering coast, and strolls through breathtaking gardens a turn off? Dorian had no idea where he went wrong, and it took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to storm into Soran’s room and demand an explanation.  

He somehow doubted that would go over well, though, so he begrudgingly made his way to his too-large master suite instead. The room was spectacular and lavishly furnished from wall to wall in the latest Tevinter styles, but somehow managed to feel so…empty. Some nights he would stay awake in his study until he could no longer keep his eyes open just to avoid it. Otherwise, he risked sharing a bed with his loneliness and damning thoughts; and that was no good. Strange how something so beautiful could cause such dread.

Oddly enough, he welcomed it now. It gave him time to ponder his ex-lover’s actions.

What was Soran’s problem, exactly? And what was with the hot and cold routine? There were moments when the former Inquisitor looked at him with the same amount of fire and desire he always had, but seconds later he would shut down and completely withdraw; as if such emotions were undesirable and something to be shoved away. Was that how Soran felt now? Like their undeniable attraction towards each other was burdensome?

It made Dorian sick.

He didn’t know what to expect when he invited Soran to stay with him, but it wasn’t this. Days and nights spent avoiding each other. Keeping a strict distance at all times. Evading real conversation like the plague. Was that really what they had become? Two strangers who liked to pretend as if they were never madly in love?

Well that wasn’t good enough.

He sighed out loudly and pushed a hand through his hair, mussing it as he turned his eyes to the ridiculously huge bed. He was definitely unhappy with how the day had ended. He felt snubbed and unappreciated; as if the efforts he made for them to connect were for nothing. So, he had two options. He could either try to get some sleep and hope it would all be magically better come morning, or he could address it. With the mood he was in, the latter sounded appealing. But how would Soran react to a confrontation? Would it turn into a quarrel? Would they scream? Say things they didn’t mean? Would Soran leave? Or would he apologize for his behavior and settle the anger brewing in Dorian’s stomach?

Well there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he made his way back to the door and padded out into the hallway; towards the guest bedroom Soran now occupied. Perhaps a fight was exactly what he needed, as morbid as that sounded. At least then there would be some sort of emotion flowing between them. It was preferable to the dead fish routine they were currently engaged in. Anything was better than that.

Dorian was a passionate man; whether it be work, love, or otherwise. Going against his nature to avoid a little discomfort or please another just didn’t work for him. He needed answers, and he feared if he didn’t get them now, he never would. Who knew how long Soran would stick around, especially with the current state of things? What reason did he even have to stay? He could decide to leave any day, and Dorian would be damned if he would let him go before getting some things off of his chest.

The closer he got to Soran’s closed door, the hotter the seething ire inside of him burned. By the time he reached the intricately carved wood, he had to force himself not to kick it open and start screaming. He was not a violent individual, but frustration and rejection did not play well together. Besides, why was he always required to be so restrained? So proper? He held things inside until they threated to explode, and they were dangerously close now.

Did Soran deserve that? He didn’t know. But, it was too late to turn back. The door was already flying open and slamming against the wall beside it. Perhaps he used a little too much force, but better the door take his abuse than someone else. The sound of it echoed in the dark room and Dorian stood in the archway; surrounded by shadows and unsure what to do now that he was actually there.

Soran flinched and spun to face the entrance, his focus jolting back to the present. Dorian stood with rigid stillness, his face partially veiled by darkness and his eyes flashing. Tension quickly filled the air around them as the door swung back to its natural position as though wounded; the small creak of the hinge the only sound besides the crackling fire.

Soran's heart skipped a beat as he took in Dorian's heated gaze, but his brief excitement dimmed when he realized the look was not born of passion, but anger.

"Dorian?" he probed, an uneasiness growing in the core of his stomach. "What's wrong?"

Soran had seen Dorian angry before, but it had never been turned his way; and he didn’t know what he had done to earn it now. Was it because of his hasty exit earlier? Thinking back, it may have come across as rude after Dorian had taken an entire day to entertain him. _Dammit_. He'd been so worked up, his manners had slipped. Guilt tugged at him, but did it really warrant this much anger? Did something else happen?

Half dressed, Soran felt exposed under Dorian's glare. Before the mage had burst in unexpectedly, he was moments away from retiring for the night. Despite the embarrassment of being caught with his pants nearly down, he remained quietly in place and held Dorian's dark eyes, waiting for an explanation.

"What's wrong? What's _wrong_?" Dorian repeated, mostly to buy himself time to come back to his senses after seeing the breathtaking elf in front of him. His hair was strewn all about and the thin shirt he wore was open in the middle, exposing his chest an abdomen in all of their glory. If Dorian didn’t know any better, he would have thought Soran did it on purpose just to tease him further. Damn the man! Here he was, having a perfectly good fit of anger, and Soran had the nerve to try and distract him with perfect abs and creamy skin.

Well it wasn't going to work; not tonight. Dorian was too worked up, and all the chiseled abs in the world would not fix the issues between them. He didn't know if anything could, but finally addressing them was a start.

He forced his eyes away from the half-naked body he once explored so lovingly and cleared his throat; stepping further into the room. "I'll tell you what is wrong, Soran. You're ashamed of me. Of us. You think I haven't noticed you purposely distancing yourself from me?"

It wasn't exactly the finesse-filled speech he would have liked to start with, but it got his point across. And now that the cat was out of the bag, he couldn't stop the rest of his thoughts from pouring out. "I spent most of my life being shamed for being what I am. Of suppressing my feelings and hiding them in the shadows. And now you want me to do it again? To go backwards?"

He paused and began a nice, dramatic pace across the carpets; avoiding Soran's stunned gaze. "I see the way you look at me. The way you did in the gardens tonight. And after that kiss in Val Royeaux...I thought...well, I don’t know what I thought."

He was rambling now, and unsure where he was even going with this. But he kept talking anyway, because apparently he liked making a fool of himself. "How can you ignore us? I am finally here. Finally right in front of you after all this time, and all you can do is pretend this thing between us doesn't exist? Why? Do you hate me for leaving that much?"

Soran stood there in dumbstruck silence, watching Dorian burn a trail through the carpet. It took a moment for the shocked confusion to pass, giving way to a turmoil of emotions. Dorian still cared for him? There was the flickering hope again. But then, anger crawled in after it.

" _Hate_ you?" he repeated quietly through his teeth. "You accuse me of such a thing? _Me_?" he asked, standing his ground. "How could you say that, Dorian? Yes, I have been keeping my distance...but only out of respect! What happened in Val Royeaux was impulsive on both our sides. I hadn't seen or really heard from you in two years, Dorian!"

He raised his hands, palms exposed. "What do you expect of me?"

“I don’t know!” Dorian fired off immediately, less thrilled than he thought he would be when he finally confronted his ex-lover. What had he been thinking? “Something, nothing…more than this?”

The truth was, he actually thought Soran staying with him would be the start of them growing close romantically again. After their moment in Orlais, what else was he supposed to think? Soran writing their kiss off as an act of impulse now was almost insulting. After the incredible, fervent love they shared, how could he blame their moment of passion on some nonsensical whim?

“We once promised each other forever,” he added, the fire in his eyes dying down; replaced with a tired sadness. “What is two years compared to that?”

In such a short time, had Soran forgotten everything that passed between them? In Dorian’s mind, that damn elf was the love of his life. There would never be anything better; nothing as monumental or life shattering. Even if he tried, and he had, nobody would ever make him feel the way the Inquisitor did. It was a slap to the face now to think that was all one sided. That he had somehow been a fling, so easy to get over once he was out of sight.

“Did you use me, Soran?” he asked before the man could formulate a response. “To have somewhere, anywhere, to go after losing everything?”

He didn’t want to think such a thing, but with the lack of evidence indicating otherwise; he had to at least consider it. If Soran didn’t come all the way to Tevinter and move in with his ex because he still had feelings, then why _was_ he here? Because there were no other options? Was Dorian just a last resort to him until he could find something better?

To him, that would almost be as heartbreaking as leaving Soran in the first place.

Soran stood dead still. From all that Dorian had just said; the most prominent sentence he recalled was "more than this."

He felt as though he could deduce the man's meaning; but he didn't want to wholeheartedly give in to that hope. Dorian wasn't saying the words he needed to hear. If Soran had it wrong, he feared his heart would at last part from his chest and the shattered leftovers of himself would never again reform.

Did Dorian not realize how he had suffered in his absence? How these few weeks had been bitter sweet torture? He kneaded his brow in agitation, desperately trying to formulate what he should and shouldn't say.

The day Dorian had offered to have him visit Tevinter, Soran's heart soared. The pathetic pretense of seeing the city and 'rediscovering himself' was a lie. Because he already knew who he was. And to whom he belonged. Soran had known all along. He then concluded that no struggle in the world would diminish the love he had for Dorian.

_To hell with it._ Had he used his former lover? Yes, he did, but not in the way the mage was suggesting. He did it because Dorian was the only thing keeping Soran rooted to the ground! His love, his fire his passion; Soran needed it and desired nothing more.

"Is my heart so difficult to read?" he said loudly, not giving one shit who heard. "Can you truly not fathom my reason for accepting your invite? Ever since we got here, I have tried to retain my senses. And every moment I have slipped and revealed my yearning for you, you have remained at arm's length!"

After a quiet moment he continued, “So I took your behavior as an answer, and thought it best to maintain distance. I do not know what you want, Dorian. But I do recall forever...being my desire."

Dorian blinked several times, his irritation sating slightly as Soran’s words smacked him right in the face. Was really blaming _him_ for their lack of…well, everything? When Soran himself was the one who had been sulking around for weeks and running off every time they threatened to have a real moment? All this time, the elf had been holding back because he thought _Dorian_ was the one keeping an entire galaxy of space between them?

What did a mage have to do to get a man’s attention around here? Dance naked while covered in honey and whipped cream? Would Soran have preferred he just throw him down on one of the expensive Antivan rugs and have his way with him? Would he perhaps have taken the hint then?

He cleared his throat at the thought and turned his focus back to the scantily clad man in front of him, his eyes flashing with a mixture of emotions. If Soran seriously believed Dorian would have stopped anything from happening between them, he was sorely mistaken. He wasn’t in here now, making a fool of himself, for no reason. The frustration had built up to unbearable levels; more than he even realized until this evening.

“Soran, my dear,” he stated drolly, his mustache twitching just a bit. “You are seven different shades of stupid.”

Soran was silent a moment, staring at Dorian in disbelief. Well, what did that mean? That he had misinterpreted Dorian this whole time? Could it be they had both been acting the fool since they arrived here? Both denying themselves what the other desired just as much? The realization caused him to experience dizzy euphoria and grating annoyance in equal measure. With a staggering abruptness, Soran closed the distance so only a breath remained between their faces.

"You mean to tell me,” he said dangerously soft, turning his face upward just enough to glare through dark lashes, “that the fault lays solely with me?" Soran tilted his head slowly in question, letting his eyes fall lazily over Dorian's mouth and back again. He fought to remain in control of his burning desire to trace those lips with gentle fingertips.

The effort was beginning to erode away at his nerves, throwing his mood in every possible direction. He was tired of trying to figure out the whys; and dissecting every gesture or look. So he decided then and there that he would slip just one more time. Soran dared to lower his face to Dorian's exposed neck, and he breathed in the scent of the man who drove him crazy. Who made him a stupid, moody fool; in at least seven different shades.

He felt slightly giddy as he returned to meet Dorian's gaze, settling into an expression not unlike that of a predator.

_Your move, Magister._

“Of course it’s your fault,” Dorian mused, the hair on the back of his neck raising. “Have you ever known me to be anything but flawless?”

He knew the quip would only exasperate Soran further, but he couldn’t help himself. A sick part of him was actually enjoying the tension flowing between them. The tiny pinpricks that erupted on his skin as Soran drew closer were absolutely invigorating. They never needed an argument to tighten the fronts of their trousers in the past, but that was apparently the case now. Unless the arousal was completely one sided; but Dorian highly doubted that. Not with the look in Soran’s eyes or the sudden influx of sexual energy radiating off of him. It was almost thick enough to choke on. And Dorian wanted to. Among other things.

So why in the Maker’s name was he still standing there with a stupid expression on his face? Hadn’t they both just admitted they still desired one another? That they had been keeping their distance for no good reason, like a pair of fools? Playing games were fun and all, but Dorian was at the end of his rope. If he had to go one more day living with the man he loved, but unable to touch him, he was going to start setting things on fire in a glorious tantrum. And nobody wanted that.

So, he grabbed Soran then, yanking his mouth to his without hesitation and kissing him roughly. Desperation was not normally Dorian’s style, but dammit, the man had been driving him crazy from the moment he arrived at House Pavus. Now was not the time to fall back on principles. Not that he could have held back if he tried. Soran had always been completely irresistible, and now was no different. Just one kiss, and Dorian was already weak in the knees and falling apart at the seams; impatient for more.

Maker help him if his desire wasn’t reciprocated. He might just die.

Soran blinked in shock, his mind scrambling to catch up. One moment they had been miles apart, circling each other in a painful ballet of memory and present; and the next they crashed into one another with no warning whatsoever. It was as though they had both been so distracted by maintaining their distance, neither realized their circle had become tighter and tighter until...

Until right now.

Soran struggled to right his thoughts as he redirected them from their strained loop and into the present; to the wonderfully bright, hot, and full moment that was Dorian. A moment which he had been chasing and aching to reach; like a starved and lost creature in some dark world only now experiencing the light.

As though in answer, his feral senses rapidly took over and Soran responded with a hunger and relief so strong he felt he might cry. In fact, the wave of emotion became so overwhelming, he couldn’t resist it a second longer. With a deep groan escaping his tight throat, Soran took Dorian's face in his trembling hands and kissed him deeply and tenderly; hoping the mage wouldn’t notice the hot tears streaking down his cheeks.

He felt his chest release the dead emptiness he had been fighting these weeks; replaced with an intense joy that filled the gaping hole within him. Soran drank in every sensation; every touch, smell, and sound as his fingertips pressed into the sides of Dorian’s jaw to hold him in place.

He drew himself as close to the other man as he possibly could, craving the feel of his body against his own; the sensation of fabric and hands sliding over his bare front driving him insane. It felt like the most natural thing in world to reach down and move his hands beneath Dorian's tunic. Warm skin greeted him as a welcome balm upon his rough hands, and he savored the silken feeling of the other man's defined hips and muscled ribs.

Their mouths only parted when it became difficult to breathe, allowing a brief moment for their gazes to meet. Soran slowly stilled his hands and held Dorian's dark eyes in a silent plea. Gone was the aloof mask he had been wearing to hide his desire, his frustrated anger, his love. He wanted Dorian to see everything, right now. No more lies or excuses. All he wanted, all he had ever wanted...was the beautiful man in front of him.

Dorian exhaled a shaken breath, his hands clenching the back of Soran’s open shirt tightly. It had been a long time since his Amatus had looked at him so vulnerably, and the relief it brought was overpowering. It washed away all doubt; all fears that what they once shared was gone. Soran loved him, and that affirmation filled Dorian with so much happiness he could have wept. He swallowed a growing lump in his throat and parted his lips to tell him; but found himself unable to speak. No further words were needed, because the Inquisitor’s eyes said it all.

He released a breathy, emotion filled chuckle instead, then brought their mouths together once more, his body muscling Soran backwards until they bumped into the large vanity in the room. Items upon it tipped over and rolled off the sides, but they paid it no mind. In that moment, all they knew was each other. The entire city could have burned down around them and Dorian wouldn’t have cared. Soran was kissing him, touching him, and that was the only thing that mattered.

They remained there in a passionate embrace as minutes ticked by, their mouth’s tangled in a sensuous duel until the heat between them was nearly unbearable. Soran’s fingers eventually cascaded across his torso impatiently, pushing his tunic upwards in a silent demand that it be removed. Dorian was all too happy to comply, breaking their heated kiss to pull the material over his head and toss it across the room so it could offend his love no longer.

“You’re killing me, Soran,” he murmured out breathily, his hands moving next to push the elf backwards further until his rear was planted firmly on the vanity. Dorian followed right after and moved between his knees fluidly, yanking him closer so the distance between their chests was no more. The Magister’s eyes filled with a smoldering gleam, his heart pounding so hard he feared it might jump right out of his throat. “Let me have you.”

Soran swallowed deeply as Dorian held his thighs, the man's palms burning through the fabric. His skin prickled in response, as it always had to the magister's touch. At Dorian's low murmured words, Soran's core heated and he tightened his grip on Dorian's arms in pleasure. They were clasped so tightly together, he was sure Dorian could feel his aching answer pressing against his stomach now.

Dorian's heated gaze was unwavering, dark, and eternally hungry. Even now, he marveled at how such a man could look into him that way and feel such desire. Soran gazed at Dorian and saw a god among men, yet didn’t understand how he himself could be perceived as cherished and desired. He pushed the thought from his mind as he ran his hands over Dorian's sculpted chest, wound them around chiseled hips, and finally palmed a tight rear in both hands. A small, appreciative noise escaped Soran's lips and he leaned in to kiss along Dorian's defined jawline.

He felt Dorian arch into his ministrations with a groan and when he reached an earlobe, he whispered hoarsely, "I have never ceased being yours."

At that, he caught Dorian's mouth in his own and nipped at the bottom lip, slipping his tongue into the hot cavern and teasing the other man's tongue into a writhing dance. A moment later, and Soran was whimpering with need. He could feel that Dorian was wound as tight as himself, and ground his hips against the mage desperately. It was all Soran could do to hold himself together as their movements became rougher.

In the back of his mind; Soran endeavored to accept that what Dorian saw in him was enough. That he was enough. Although he felt he was lacking in comparison to this godlike man pressed against him, no matter how many times he was told otherwise. After all they had shared and experienced together, Soran still looked up to Dorian. Still felt awed inspiration in the man's every move. And he was still somehow loved unconditionally by him. That undeniable fact rushed through him in one giant wave, and he rasped, "Dorian...please...I need...I-"

He had no more words; only the inexplicable need to feel Dorian inside him. Everywhere. Now.

"Oh I do love it when you ask nicely," Dorian cooed out softly in response, his lips grazing Soran's ear then nipping at it lightly. The following whimper it earned set the mage's skin ablaze; making it nearly impossible to hold back. Now that they had finally given in to their feelings, he was unsure how he ever managed to in the first place. Soran was the most potent of drugs, and Dorian had been craving a taste for far too long.

His beautiful elf was begging him to indulge, and the gentleman in him couldn’t possibly deny such a request. His hands were hasty, but gentle, as he grabbed Soran off the vanity in one fell swoop and turned him around to face the mirror. He never could bring himself to be rough with the Inquisitor, even if they were simply playing bedroom games. Soran was more than just a body to throw around and sate your urges with. Dorian knew he was special from the moment he laid eyes on him those many years ago, and made it a point to always treat him as such.

That personal promise made the mage take pause for a moment, ignoring the need to tear into the man like a wrapped gift for just a bit longer. His eyes met Soran’s in the reflective glass and a small smile touched his well-kissed lips. The love of his life stared back at him like he was having some sort of secret revelation inside his head. Dorian couldn’t quite make out his expression, but his awe filled gaze sent a small shiver down his spine. He was used to attention from man and woman alike, but Soran had always looked at him a differently than the others.

He made him feel truly beautiful, and not just because of his obviously flawless features or amazing hair. His gaze promised undying devotion and the sort of love a person didn’t just stumble upon several times in their life. And that was more precious than all the lust filled glances in the world.

He released a wispy sigh, then, and softened his grip on Soran’s hips; the previous need for urgency completely vanishing. How long had it been since he was truly able to enjoy all of the pleasures Soran’s body offered him? And yet, he had almost made the mistake of rushing this moment; of diving headfirst into bed and missing out on the chance to truly savor what was happening between them. Soran deserved more than a romp in the sheets simply because they were horny. He deserved to know how much Dorian adored him, even years after they were supposed to be over and done.

With a pretty smile playing on his mustached lip, Dorian ran his hand upwards along Soran’s chest to finally grip his angular chin and pull his head back so he could whisper in his ear once more, “Do you know how completely breathtaking you are?”

He already knew the answer; Soran had never seen himself as attractive. So he continued without waiting to hear his lover’s self-deprecating response. “I’m going to show you. And it’s going to be torturously slow. Watch closely, Master Lavellan.”

He could tell by the way the other man crumpled in his arms that his words caused him to unravel. It only encouraged Dorian to take it further; to make Soran watch him worship every inch of him until he believed in his own beauty. His grip on the Inquisitor’s jaw released so his hands could explore further, and his lips began a slow journey across the delicate curves and hollows of the elf’s neck and shoulder. Every kiss was a brand, searing an imprint of Dorian’s love into his skin; marking him as his own. After he got done with him tonight; he dared anyone to deny that their love was the greatest Thedas had ever known.

Soran felt every limb melt under Dorian's gentle touch. One moment, every cell in his body had been screaming for a hard, fast release and the next...he desired nothing more than to make this moment last forever. He watched in the gilded mirror's reflection as Dorian's mouth trailed over his left shoulder and further upward toward his ear. He tilted his head to allow Dorian access; savoring the ticklish, warm breath skittering over his heated skin.

As Soran became aware of every muscle easing and surrendering beneath Dorian's hands; he also welcomed the new state of relief which came upon him.

His chest loosened and his mind cleared. He was amazed at the effect this longing had on him. In every way. For so long, his mind and body had pined for Dorian's presence and touch; to the point where any other physical contact had become repulsive to him.

Soran had become a distant, quiet leader to the Inquisition during Dorian's absence. To his men he had remained strong, capable, and fearless; yet his inner circle had grown increasingly concerned for him as he kept more and more to himself when he was not needed.

The only thing that had kept him functioning at all, was the reminder that the Inquisition had never failed him. His soldiers, advisors, and supporters had stood by him through thick and thin, no matter what. He owed it to them to see it through to the end. He had barely been able to look at himself, though, after the only one who truly saw him left.

But now, seeing their glowing forms pressed together in the golden firelight, Soran took in his own reflection. He saw his own tawny eyes shining deeply, his fair skin shimmering in the silver beams of moonlight, and he watched the contented smile slowly grace his lips.

He raised his eyes to meet his own gaze, and finally found the Soran he was meant to be. It was as though his reflection was glad to see him. Indeed, there was the proud, mischievous glint, the determined jaw, the strong set of his shoulders, the agile, brave hands, and the clear, decided smile.

His eyes widened in wonder, meeting Dorian's now. The man gazed at him quietly from over his shoulder, watching in satisfaction as Soran settled back into himself once again. No more doubts. He remembered who - and what - he was. Thus, Soran smiled a real smile for the first time in a long time, and turned to kiss Dorian deeply. It was like his entire consciousness was drawing back into himself, from being scattered and thin. He willed rivers of gratitude to flow from him even as he whispered it from his lips, onto Dorian's.

"Thank you, my love. I believe I've returned from whatever dark place I have been these years. I'm back. I feel it in my bones, my skin, my heart. And I want to make love to you as never before."

Soran’s words caused an elated pleasure to roll down Dorian’s spine like a lick of fire. The proclamation was the sweetest he had ever heard, a melodious symphony playing for his ears only. It weighed so deeply on him, he felt as if his chest would burst apart. For once in his life, Dorian was speechless and could do nothing but sink his lips back to Soran’s and drown in them. He had planned on drawing out his teasing in the mirror, but the second his beautiful elf turned to face him, he was lost.

The next few moments were a blur; like a daydream of hands and beating hearts; somehow ending with Dorian’s back pressed against the soft sheets of Soran’s bed as their mouths tousled. He didn’t remember removing Soran’s shirt, but somehow his bare torso and arms were now free; displayed gloriously in the flickering firelight. Perhaps he had used magic to make the material disappear without realizing it; a strong possibility with his mind so drunken from Soran’s kisses.

He let his head fall backwards to catch his breath, a seductive grin displayed across his tanned features. Even having the weight of Soran pressing him down against the bed was a thrill he had not felt in some time. As he gazed up at the glorious man straddling him, he felt happier than he had in a dragon’s age. It was a tremendous relief to cease the bullshit and finally give in to the powerful feelings they had always shared, but tried to ignore.

“Mm,” he hummed out after a short pause, not wanting to ruin their momentum by gawking for too long. Soran was very boldly pinning him in place, making sure he had the mage right where he wanted him; and Dorian was all too happy to let him have his way with him. “Taking control, are we? I like it.”

Soran gave Dorian a slow, lazy smile in response; loving the solid, warm feel of the beautiful mage beneath him. He basked in the tingling heat from the cracking fire and gave an involuntary shudder of pleasure. Soran leaned down on an elbow beside Dorian's head and gently threaded his fingers through the man's thick dark hair. How he had missed this!

With another naughty grin, he trailed kisses down Dorian's forehead and nose; ending the tantalizing journey by softly sucking the Mage's bottom lip. This earned him a rather lovely moan, and he laughed huskily. "Hm, yes. You see, my Lord... I'm rather good at taking control of things..."

Dorian grinned back and squeezed his thighs firmly in response. For a long moment they were silent as their mouths became occupied once again.

Soran reveled in the stimulating movements their entwined bodies made, and he could not resist as his hips began to grind slowly against Dorian's; their desire growing hot and hard between them. Their breathing became deeper and quicker as Soran's fingers, lips, and tongue tasted every inch of Dorian and small noises of pleasure escaped his own throat.

He gripped the Tevinter he adored ever tighter to him; losing himself in their passion and knowing without a doubt their bond was being forged anew; stronger and more beautiful than ever before.

The minutes crept by as they lay there exploring each other as if for the first time; or perhaps hours. Dorian no longer knew the concept of time, only the gentle caresses and touches of his Elven lover. Every brush of fingertips sent his senses soaring; every silken movement of their bodies pressing together guiding him further and further into a world only they knew.

When he could no longer bear the blissful torture Soran was inflicting upon him, the mage tugged at his partner’s loosened trousers and shoved them hastily down his hips; his chest so tight with lust he feared he might scream. Dorian valued his talent for commanding the world around him; for coming out on top in every situation, but Soran had the uncanny ability to throw that all out the window and make him feel vulnerable and out of control. If his constituents in the Magisterium saw him in his current state of panting and begging out for more in pathetic, needy whispers, they would laugh him off the podium.

“Soran, you torturous bastard,” he breathed out huskily, his pulse pounding so heavily in his throat he could barely speak, “If you don’t stop teasing me, I’m going to finish before we get to the good bits.”

An airy chuckle erupted from his throat, but he was quite serious. Their foreplay was perfect and everything he had been dreaming of for years, but the cat-like rolling and grinding of their hips against each other was maddening. The last thing he wanted was for the heat flowing between them to send him over the edge before he even got to experience the pure, unsaturated bliss of being one with his Inquisitor.

Soran managed a rough laugh as Dorian struggled to get his trousers down his legs. The sound came out muffled in his own ears as blood, lust, and love pulsed underneath his skin. He was consumed by the energy, and it threatened to explode from him at any moment. Soran, too, had almost lost himself to the simple, inexplicable pleasures they had been re-discovering together. “Well we wouldn’t want that, would we?” he asked with a soft hum as the pants were tossed aside like something undesirable. “Perhaps if I… do _this_ instead?”

The elf lowered his head, never breaking eye contact as he trailed kisses down his mage's sculpted stomach. Once he reached his destination, he tugged at the cloth laces concealing Dorian’s arousal with his teeth playfully.

Dorian lifted his head to watch intently, his eyes reflecting the glowing flames in the hearth. “I think that is a brilliant idea…”

“Oh, well allow me to continue then,” Soran purred out, finally sliding the pants down with a gentle groan escaping him. He felt overwhelmed. It had been so long since...well...

His throat tightened and his mouth went dry. Almost shyly, Soran reached out and caressed the silken length of Dorian, feeling the bedcovers being grasped in response. “I have missed touching you,” he murmured out, enjoying the pleasured look on his lover’s face.

For the next several moments, he boldly massaged and tasted Dorian until they were both out of breath and groaning for more. Soran began to ache painfully with need, and he could think of nothing else but being inside of the man he loved. It was a strange desire, considering he had almost always played the part of ‘bottom’ in the past.

As he crawled upwards and took Dorian's mouth against his once more, Soran fought to formulate words. "No more teasing," he ground out in a harsh whisper, making his intentions known by reaching down to gently prepare Dorian’s body for their impending love making. "May I have you now, my love?"

Dorian wanted to reply, to spout a typical witty remark, but somehow his tongue had been stifled. For the second time that evening, Magister Pavus was speechless and it was all Soran’s fault. Forget the mage theory, the man was a demon; tempting him into wicked sin. All he could manage in response was a haste nod followed by a soft, erotic sigh as Soran’s elegant fingers invaded him in the most delicious of ways.

He slid his palms down the elf’s back, exploring every taut muscle before digging his nails in slightly and holding on for dear life. He tried to find his voice so he could beg like a whimpering submissive again, but it turned out he didn’t have to. Soran was soon within him, causing him to choke on air and arch his back off the sheets with a gasp.

For the first few seconds, Dorian could do nothing but lay there suspended in an invisible web, the world around him slowing as if frozen in place. The thudding of his heart in his throat and the spine-tingling sensation of being filled were the only things that existed in the universe. And then Soran began to move, and Dorian came crashing down back to earth; back against the sheets as a wave of familiar pleasure washed over his body.

“Amatus,” he sighed out breathily, a line of perspiration already dotting his hairline. “This is even more amazing than I remember.”

“The feeling is…definitely mutual,” Soran groaned in response as their bodies plunged together over and over; every muscle within him straining with need. He reached up to lace his fingers with Dorian’s, using the other man’s hands as an anchor while his hips moved in a slow, erotic dance. His eyes slowly fluttered closed as he surrendered to the hot, silken sensations their writhing bodies produced together.

With every thrust, Soran willed his love, fire, and promise into his beautiful mage; welding himself to Dorian in every way possible. From this day forward they were one - one love, one friendship, one team, one ambition. This was the path he would walk now; never again fearing the darkness of isolation and not being needed. Purpose filled him to the brim. With every panting breath, he became new.

“Tell me you love me, Dorian. I need to hear it.”

“You know I do.”

“Please.”

Dorian smiled, his eyes smoldering and his hair mussed. “I love you, Soran. Never question that again.”

The Inquisitor smiled happily and fell upon him then, smothering him in short, sensual kisses. Dorian made an odd sound— some sort of hybrid between a chuckle and a groan—before wrapping him up in his arms tightly.

They stayed that way, lost in each other, until neither of them could stand the scorching energy their moving bodies had created. Pleasure became almost painful. Their muscles shook and trembled from exertion. Dorian could do nothing besides give in to the rhythmic sway of Soran’s hips and roll his eyes around in his skull.

Soran drove himself further and further until finally, in one last plunge, he dove over the edge with a long, breathless groan. His soul cried out in satisfaction and happiness as his physical being floated somewhere in the universe.

Seeing his love come undone was enough to end Dorian seconds later. He arched in return and dragged his nails down the soft skin of Soran’s back, pressing his chest firmly against the elf’s as he unraveled. His release was so intense, it blurred his vision and tightened his throat until he was nearly choking. When he eventually settled back down against the damp sheets, he was exhausted. Soran collapsed against him in a heap; a sign that he, too, was completely spent. With heavy breaths, he snaked his arms around Dorian and felt their hearts thudding together, as one.

"I love you too, Dorian,” he whispered gently, his eyes slowly drooping against his will.

“Mm, of course you do, what’s not to love? I’m practically perfect,” he answered with a drained smirk, laughing out loud when the comment earned him a poke in the ribs.

“You are insufferable,” Soran mumbled as if annoyed, but he couldn’t hide the smitten grin on his face.

“All a part of my charm.”

Dorian kissed Soran’s matted hair with a hum then ran his fingers softly through it, gently untangling the knots. As enjoyable as sex was, this was probably his favorite part; laying together afterwards in a sweaty, satiated heap—unable to move. There were no worries, no expectations; just the enjoyment of each other’s company in contented bliss. He wasn’t sure what it would be like to return to The Maker, but he imagined it would feel something like this.

He wished they could lay there forever, never losing the moment, never being tainted again by reality. He didn’t know what would come when the sun rose in the morning, but right now Dorian was more than content to hold Soran against him and imagine a world where they could have this every night. He melted against the sheets and sighed out softly, letting his tired mind wander. Behind his eyes, an entire world full of sappy love scenes played out—full of enough mush to choke a dragon— until he eventually slipped off into the dream realm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW! Writing that chapter sure was fun! We hope you enjoyed it, and would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Thank you for taking the time, and please keep an eye out for the final chapter! It's going to be a good one!
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